Green
by KitchenWitch1994
Summary: Spock has no idea what St. Patrick's Day is, so Kirk attempts to enlighten him. Read, attempts. Now with Chapter Two! Kirk/Spock slash. Rated M for infrequent language, possible alcohol usage, potential emotional attachment, and lots of smut.
1. Chapter 1

**Green**

Had Spock been more human, he would have been confused. This was the twentieth time today he had seen one of his human crewmates be pinched by another for no perceivable reason. There was a consistent pattern to each incident: the human initiating the pinch was, fifteen times of twenty, wearing something green on their person, while the human receiving the pinch was not wearing anything green.

Perhaps this was merely a human tradition he was unaware of. Humans had many illogical holidays with equally illogical traditions to them. Reasonably, if he must know, he would ask Uhura later.

_But, for now,_ he mused, _I am immune to this practice, because I am not human._

Well, not _entirely_ human.

The doors to his quarters slipped open, and immediately Spock felt his mind relax away from the constant pressure of emotions. Familiar surroundings were incredibly comforting, as was the promise of leisure activities in off-duty time. The two lulled him, dulled his senses to the outside.

Spock dropped into the nearest chair and removed his shoes, allowing himself a small smile when they came off. He would never admit it aloud, but as much as he enjoyed his position as First Officer, he would have equally enjoyed himself simply remaining part of the science team. It would have given him more time to himself—more time to read and to think.

And less time around James Tiberius Kirk. Spock reached for his book_, _frowning slightly. Since the _Narada's_ destruction, he and Kirk had become friends, to the point that Kirk would save him a seat at the mess during lunchtime and regale him with stories about his sexual conquests of multiple women. But lately, whenever they were on the bridge and working in close proximity, Spock would feel Kirk's arm brush against his, and his senses would light up. Even the memory made his fingertips tingle with the electricity of feeling.

Spock shook his head and turned to his bookmarked page. The whole thing was utterly illogical. _Pon farr_ was not meant to occur for another two years, and even in such a case a suitable mate would be chosen for the event. Precisely, a _female_ would be chosen for him. There was no way that these flickers of feeling, however constant, were symbolic of something more.

Right?

Spock quashed his emotion and buried himself in his book. No matter how physiologically stimulating a touch from James Kirk was, the logic of Sherlock Holmes could wipe it away.

oOoOo

Spock was halfway through_ The Copper Beeches_ when his concentration was interrupted by a loud, obnoxious knock on his door.

He allowed himself a little huff. Very likely it was one of the newer recruits needing technological assistance. _Perhaps if I ignore it, _he thought hopefully,_ it will go away._

The door was quiet. Spock relaxed again, and started back on the paragraph he had been—

The knocking came again, louder and more obnoxiously. Spock would not have thought that possible if he hadn't heard a very familiar voice on the other side of the door, murmuring his name too quietly for human ears to pick up.

It just _had _to be him. Trying to keep his cheeks from burning, Spock slammed the book shut and started for the door, most dissatisfied that he couldn't throw it open.

Kirk almost fell into the room when the door opened, and would have smashed his face in the floor had Spock not caught him last minute. The human was grinning stupidly, the air around him reeking like a bottle of Vulcan wine. Spock was tempted to nerve-pinch him where he stood; he could handle the unconscious drooling better than that stupid expression on his face.

"Spock…"

Spock's jaw tensed, using every ounce of self-control not to blush. Kirk _had_ to speak, _had _to say his name like he was moaning it. Every time he spoke. If Spock ever had the presence of mind, he would record a moment like this, and then tape Kirk's mouth shut.

Kirk was still grinning. A lock of Kirk's blond hair, usually so neat, fell in his face as he looked up at Spock. "Why are you all alone tonight?" he slurred, attempting to stand.

Spock held onto Kirk's shoulder, passively helping him up. "I wished to be, Captain."

"You could celebrate with us," Kirk hiccupped. "Look how happy it made me!"

Spock shook his head. "Captain, you may cease your attempt to fool me."

Kirk looked confused, or as confused as he could with his facial muscles mostly slack. "What?"

"You have not been drinking tonight. You have merely been sitting in the mess hall with our crewmates, who _have_ been imbibing."

Kirk's expression changed entirely, so that he was scowling and looking surprisingly sober. "How the hell did you know, Spock?"

"I believe I once assisted you at a starbase and kept you from vomiting on your uniform in the aftermath."

"Damn. Should never have brought you with me."

Spock's lip curled slightly. "You could not help it. Nonetheless, the fact that your mental capabilities were intact for eighty percent of the time was impressive, to say the least."

Kirk waved his hand and flopped inelegantly onto Spock's chair. His legs draped over one of the arms, and had Spock been more human, he may well have wolf-whistled in appreciation.

Spock walked past him, back straight as a rod. "Out of the chair." _Before I really _do _whistle._

Kirk rolled his eyes but did not move. "Second time you've told me that," he commented. "Who says I'm going to listen this time?"

"Then while you are occupying my spot, you can answer a personal query."

"Yes?"

"Why did you attempt to appear inebriated? It is…" Spock hesitated. "Illogical."

Kirk sat up slightly, and looked Spock square in the face. "First, I wanted to bond with the crew—"

"By feigning drunkenness," Spock interrupted.

"—and the fast way to do that was pretend I was getting as wasted as they were. Second, I would have _loved_ to drink myself into a Saint Paddy's day stupor, but someone has to be awake to pilot the ship. And third, I thought it'd be funny psyching you out like that."

"You realize I am unfamiliar with the majority of human vernacular."

"Playing a prank, Spock," came the irritated answer.

"Ah." There was a silence as Kirk settled further into Spock's chair, and Spock wondered if he would ever be able to sit in it again without flushing. Then, the Vulcan spoke. "What is Saint Paddy's day?"

"Human holiday," Kirk answered gloomily. He was fiddling with the bookmark—which highly displeased Spock, because now he was down a chair and a favorite bookmark. "It used to have some religious meaning to it, but now it's the day of the year we get a free pass to wear green and drink like fish."

Green. A back corner of Spock's brain lit up. "Would that explain the twenty or so cases of pinching I witnessed today?"

"Yeah. The tradition goes…"

A sudden, slow grin spread over Kirk's face. He stood up slowly and walked towards Spock, coming so close the Vulcan found himself backing away to keep their chests from touching. Kirk seemed taller than usual, more confident. More attractive.

A lump came into Spock's throat, and he swallowed over it to speak. "The tradition, Captain?" he asked, voice inexplicably hoarse.

"The tradition goes," Kirk began again, his voice low and almost purring, "is that if someone isn't wearing green on Saint Patrick's Day, they get pinched. Because leprechauns can see them, you know," he added with a dazzling smile.

Spock was having difficulty thinking with that smile directed at him, with his eyes on Kirk's mouth. "Leprechauns? Highly illogical."

"That's the tradition, Spock. Has no one pinched you yet?"

_Oh dear._ "No, Captain. I am Vulcan, remember? I am immune to—"

"_Half-_Vulcan, Spock. Not immune." He was leaning in, his face like a Grecian sculpture coming closer and closer…

And then he was gone, a yard and a half away, with Spock leaning forward to where Kirk had been not twenty seconds before. Kirk himself was still smiling, more deviously than before. "I'll make you a deal, Spock. If you turn green, I won't pinch you."

"You cannot _make _me turn green," Spock answered coldly. He straightened, covering his bluff as best as possible, and yanked the creases from his uniform front. "At best you could give my cheeks a greenish tint, like a human's blush gives his cheeks a pinkish tint. In any case, I have more control over my emotions than _that,"_ he added emphatically.

Kirk's grin faded, replaced by an expression of utmost seriousness that was somehow more dangerous and devious than his smile. "Really, Spock?" he murmured.

Spock swallowed again, fighting the impulse to blush. "Yes, Captain. _Really._"

Kirk shook his head. "That's too bad," he said, turning towards Spock's bed with a nonchalant shrug. "I was hoping there would've been some way to keep me from pinching you."

Then he pulled the top half of his uniform over his head and threw it to the floor.

Spock's eyes flew wide open, and his jaw clenched shut so tightly he thought his teeth might crack from the force. A shiver sped uncontrolled down his spine. This was…this was illogical. Never mind illogical, it was _impossible._ This _must _be a dream.

Kirk turned his head back to Spock, running a hand through his hair so it became attractively disheveled. His eyes roamed Spock's face, searching for the blush that did not come and locking eyes with him numerous times. "Perhaps I should be trying harder?" he asked lightly, and Spock saw his hand drop towards the zipper on his trousers.

Spock held his hands up frantically. "Don't, Jim."

Immediately he regretted using his name. Kirk's hand fell away, and he closed the distance between them once more, moving so slowly and so controlled that Spock couldn't help but _watch_—watched his tanned chest rise and fall from his breathing, watched the almost imperceptible line of hair trail down his navel and further—

"Don't," Spock whispered. They were close again.

"What are you begging me for, Spock?" asked Kirk, without smiling. "I've done nothing, and neither have you."

"Do not press me, Captain."

Kirk shook his head, gazing deep into Spock's eyes. "Spock," he said, and the Vulcan shivered again as he said his name. "Do you any idea how much that turns me on?"

And his lips were suddenly pressed against Spock's, soft and cool against the hot blood rushing to Spock's face. The touch was more than Spock had ever experienced, like a small explosion had been set off inside his chest. He made to pull away, to protest, but Kirk held him close, wrapping an arm snugly around the Vulcan's waist and letting his other hand roam freely across his chest. Spock shivered in Kirk's arms, let his hand brush his shoulders and neck, let Kirk's mouth leave his and kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his ears…

"Jim," Spock breathed.

Kirk purred and licked the pointed end of Spock's ear. "You lost the bet," he hissed back, touching his fingertips to the Vulcan's face. "You're green now."

"James," Spock said again, stifling an appreciative moan when Kirk kissed his earlobe. "Why?…"

Another lick, this time at his neck. "I want to." Then Kirk's ministrations ceased and he Spock square in the face, his eyes wide and glimmering sky-blue. "I've wanted to for the longest time. You have no idea."

Spock thought for a second that he_ did_ know, but Kirk—Jim now?—Jim claimed his mouth again, more demandingly, and with tongue flickering over his bottom lip that made Spock want to melt away. Their hands met, touching palm to palm, and Spock gasped a little as he felt Jim's emotions rage through his mind: _Spock, want, please, lust, want, please, Spock, need—_

Spock whimpered, the heat of the human emotion too overpowering to resist. Jim kissed even more passionately, and their tongues touched and tangled in a delicious hot mess, until they were at best pawing each other's chests and Jim was fumbling for the hem of Spock's shirt, trying, _needing_ him, needing to feel—

The Vulcan reeled back, hands on Kirk's chest, pushing away for air. "I need to know," he panted, "how much you mean it."

"I'll show you," Kirk growled, bending his head to take Spock's neck.

"Nnn." With difficulty, Spock pushed them apart again and seized Kirk's hands by the wrist. They locked eyes, Kirk's wild with hunger and desire, and Spock's eyes wide and trying to maintain sanity.

"Jim. I _need_ to know you mean it."

Something seemed to click in Kirk's brain, and his arms fell away, as did the rest of him. He didn't say anything, and for a minute a flash of fear ran through Spock's brain—had it meant nothing to him?

Kirk must have seen it, because then he was there, gently touching Spock's face, little threads of comfort and warmth stretching across their linking minds. When Kirk spoke, it was softer and gentler than it had been all night. "I would rather lose captaincy," he murmured, "would rather lose this ship, than lie to you, Spock."

"You are not known for your fidelity with women—"

"Spock." Jim's eyes were suddenly pained at the idea. "Never like that."

Spock watched him carefully. "I will hold you to your promise, James Tiberius K—"

Jim's mouth was at his again, kissing softly over and over until whatever Spock had planned to say mattered nothing to him. With a sudden burst of energy, Spock picked Jim up into his arms, making the blond chuckle as he hung on to him. "What was that about?"

"It is tradition for the male Vulcan to initiate the mating rituals," Spock answered, blushing green as Jim's legs wrapped around his waist.

"Mm." Jim's hands ran through Spock's space-black hair, his thumbs caressing the pointed Vulcan ears. "You and your traditions."

"And you and yours," Spock returned, belatedly noticing an emerald shamrock pendent lying on the floor as he carried Kirk towards his private quarters.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: For the lovely Conner, tag on Fanfiction being xladyjagsvolleyball16x, as a gift for no real reason but to make her spring break very enjoyable. Also my first real crack at Spirk or KS fiction, and my first legitimate fiction period. I'm very, very tempted to write another chapter full of smut, but then I'd have to change the rating! Maybe next St. Paddy's Day. :)_

_Hope everyone enjoys! Happy Leprechaun Day!_


	2. Chapter 2

"Spock…"

They pulled away from each other for a second, panting softly. Twenty minutes they'd been in that tiny little bed together, with Spock on top and kissing every part of Jim's face he could, but not much else had happened. Hell, Spock's shirt was still on.

Not like Jim was being given the opportunity to something about that on bottom.

"I will not deny that I am nervous, Captain," Spock murmured, carefully unwinding his hands from the sheets nearby.

"I know," Jim murmured back. Even without a mind-meld, he could feel Spock's hands quiver against the mattress. "Would it make you feel better if I said I'm a little nervous too?"

Spock's lips turned slightly downward in accordance with a Vulcan frown. "Forgive me for saying so, but you are not virginal—"

"With _women, _Spock, not men," came the correction.

"Which prompts another question," the Vulcan continued, and he locked his dark eyes with Jim's. "Why do you press so much attention on females when you desire men?"

Jim laughed softly and ran a hand through his already-messed-up hair. "Do I have to answer that in the middle of this?"

Spock seemed to understand, and he nodded. "Then I shall move on," he said simply, and started to tug off his shirt.

Jim put a hand out to stop him. "May I?"

The green blush came up again very quickly. "If you must."

Jim nodded absently. It took an enormous amount of self-control not to touch him, but somehow he managed to peel the uniform shirt away to reveal Spock's pale torso. Even in the dim light Jim could see the green flush blooming across his chest, and he smiled a little as he tossed the shirt aside. If he had all the time in the world to look at Spock the way he was now, with his glossy black hair mussed from kissing and his chest still heaving slightly—he was so fucking gorgeous it was hard to breathe.

Of course, that vanished as soon as the gorgeous one in question opened his mouth. "I understand my physique is not quite a 'ten,' as humans may say," Spock started, somewhat bitterly, "but I think—"

Jim shook his head and—finally—touched Spock's chest. "Trust me when I say you're _more_ than a ten."

Spock shivered softly and leaned his head down for another kiss, which Jim gladly took. He didn't push like he had before, instead letting Spock lead. The Vulcan kept his mouth closed, refusing to let Jim's tease of a tongue in, instead bypassing it to gently kiss his neck and jawline.

Jim murmured something gently unintelligible, and Spock looked up. The Captain's eyes were a little hazy, and he reached up to touch the beautiful mess of black hair. "Oh, Spock," he murmured again. "When did you get to be so wonderful?"

Spock's lips twitched upward. "That is not a quantitative query, Captain. I am not sure how to answer except with another."

"Really? Go on."

"When did you become so…" He paused, and his eyes glimmered like stars in the dark. "So remarkably fascinating?"

Suddenly Jim was being kissed again, more passionately than before, and with _tongue._ Lots of tongue, winding and tangling in one glorious mess. Vaguely he could feel Spock's thin fingers against his hips, but the pressure was nothing compared to the glory that was Spock's mouth—hot like fire, but with a taste like chocolate and orange that made him very greedy for more.

And then he was gone, and Jim groaned in agony. "Come back, please…"

There was a rustling, and his eyes focused back on Spock, who was vainly trying to take off his pants. Jim grinned and sat up, touched Spock's hand. "Sorry if I have to interrupt again," he joked. "Did you not want me to see?"

"If you must, Jim," breathed the Vulcan. "Though I had hoped you would be as oblivious as you were a few seconds ago."

So _that's_ why there was so little pressure against his groin now. Jim leaned and kissed the ears, the cheeks burning with green blush. "How can I be oblivious," he asked, fumbling with Spock's fly, "when you suddenly stop kissing me as distractingly as you were earlier? Easy change to notice, Commander." With a little tug, he pulled Spock's trousers down to his knees, and raised his eyebrows at the result.

"Do you see something unusual, Captain?" Spock asked, a little dryly.

"Define unusual," Jim answered, licking his lips. Had he been straight, he would've been jealous, but that wasn't the real reason he was staring. "You make a habit of not wearing underwear, Spock?"

"I calculated that, with a tight-fitting uniform, it would be illogical to wear my traditional undergarments."

"No briefs or anything?"

"They bunch." Spock shifted uncomfortably under Jim's gaze. "Must you stare?"

"You're stunning, Spock. Convince me to look away."

Without another word Spock pulled them back together in a kiss, and this time Jim felt the writhing above him as Spock wriggled out of his pants. Jim waited for a little bit, until he felt Spock's hips settle back next to his—absolutely naked, holy hell—before rolling them over and taking top.

"J-Jim," Spock gasped.

Jim didn't answer, instead taking the break to nearly tear the remaining clothes from his body. Everything finally free, he started to clamber back on top, before Spock flipped him back over with a little noise like a purr.

Jim couldn't do more than groan. When their bodies touched, it was like his senses were being set on fire, not just from the Vulcan's fiery body temperature, but from the _way_ he touched. He never used his hands or his fingers—those ran through his hair and across his face—but their chests brushed together with every panting breath, his mouth was licking and kissing madly over his throat and shoulders, and he ground his Vulcan hips like some kind of sex god until they were both hard as freaking rocks.

"Spock," Jim moaned, rocking up against the mattress. "Please…"

Vulcan lips slipped wetly away from his neck. "You desire more?"

Which was right around when Jim stuck out his hand and grabbed Spock's on impulse. This time he could feel Spock's emotions, and damn if he didn't almost drown in them—the heat raging by his heart, at his hips, the desire pumping through his emerald blood, the want, the almost _need _to let go of his control—

Spock tore his hand away, eyes wild. "You were not meant to—"

"Damn not meant to, Spock," Jim gasped. "I _felt _it, in my bones." He pulled his Vulcan close, touching as much as he could of his shoulders, his face.

"As I felt yours," Spock murmured in answer, "but I must stay in control of—"

"And if I don't want you to?"

There was a quivering silence, then Spock spoke, very low, holding up two fingers to Jim's lips: "Lick."

Jim eagerly obeyed, sucking and running his tongue over each digit for as long as possible, listening to Spock's groans of pleasure until the fingers were removed from his mouth and placed between his legs.

"Nnn," Jim winced, bucking against the new pressure, but Spock didn't stop, not for what felt like ages. He wasn't rough, but it was invasive and it ached and stung in places, and worse when the fingers slipped in and out in rhythm. Jim was halfway convinced this was enough, that he didn't want more, when Spock's finger slipped inside and grazed—

"Oh, _Christ._"

Spock panted, licked his lips as looked down at Jim's wide-open eyes. His lip curled up and, after an agonizing second of nothing, flicked his finger again.

Jim bucked hard, moaned and ground against Spock's hips, eliciting a gratified hiss from the Vulcan. The fingers slipped away. "You're ready," Spock purred as he swung his legs around Jim's hips.

More groaning from Jim. "Spock—"

His hands were placed on Spock's hips. "Squeeze if I become too rough," he murmured, and placed a surprisingly gentle kiss on Jim's lips.

Then he plunged.

It was slow and careful at first, with Spock taking care with each thrust to hit that _one _spot from before, and the deliberateness nearly drove Jim mad with want. So he moaned and writhed against the sheets, rather loudly and wantonly, his hands leaving Spock's hips to find purchase on his back.

And when Spock put his hand to Jim's face, Jim licked, laved his tongue all over it until Spock's breath came in harsh pants and his hips were speeding up. Thin fingers reached out again, seared Jim's cheek and pressed to his temples, and this time the mind meld stuck—their blood raged at the same pace, and every kiss and thrust became a shared pleasure, as if they were both being touched and touching all at once.

And when their tandem moans were echoing across the meld, with hips driving a devastatingly hot tattoo and hands stroking what occupied lips couldn't reach, Jim let out a choked gasp of "Spock!" and they knew they were there, and released simultaneously, hot and white across pale stomach and deep within, until they were both light-headed and shivering and, with a last slick thrust, Spock let out a weak groan and collapsed, spent, at Jim's side.

They lay there together, panting softly, for the next who-knew-how-long, until Jim curled inwards towards Spock. Spock didn't protest, but Jim felt something warm and golden cross between their minds which, he realized vaguely, had not become un-melded yet.

"Is this one of your human mating rituals?" Spock asked, his voice still low and sexily hoarse.

"Called cuddling, Spock," Jim murmured in response. He reached up and ran his hands through the sweat-slicked black hair. "Releases some kind of hormones or something, builds closeness."

"Mmm." Jim could feel Spock's mental gears spinning, slower than he'd anticipated for a Vulcan. He felt a vague tap at the back of his free hand and looked down; Spock's hand was next to his, his first and middle fingers extended towards Jim.

Jim looked confused for a second before Spock spoke again. _"__Ozh'esta," _he explained. "The Vulcan form of a kiss. It is usually reserved for bondmates or lovers, but I believe—"

"We've kinda done both, haven't we?" Jim noted, copying the gesture and touching their fingers together.

Spock blinked twice, his surprise transferring across the mental link.

"It's only fair, really, for all you've done for me," Jim added, watching their hands with a smile.

"And what have I done for you, Ca—Jim?"

"Saint Paddy's traditions."

"Those again?" Jim felt Spock make something like a chuckle across the link. "I thought we had completed the 'tradition' of turning me green."

"That was my part." Jim started to smile, and gently stroked Spock's half of the finger-kiss. _"You,_ Mr. Spock, thoroughly kissed an Irishman."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I was not aware you were of Irish heritage."

"Welsh," Jim replied. He nuzzled into Spock's chest, and wrapped his arms around the still-emerald-flushed Vulcan.

To Jim's gentle surprise, Spock laughed quietly and pulled them close together. "Close enough for me, Jim."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Notes: I know, I know, but I couldn't help it! I honestly couldn't believe the reaction the first chapter got. 217 visitors in three days? You people are absolutely <em>incredible!_ So consider this a major thank-you. I'd apologize for the pure smut, but from the reviews I've gotten I'm not sure if I should apologize to begin with. You know who you are! ;)_

_A couple important mentions and thank you's: first, to **Tech Duinn**, whose Vulcan glossary at the end of her story _Ku tor Ku_ actually gave me the term _ozh'esta_ to use in the first place. I honestly wouldn't have known it existed without her meticulous notes. She's also all-around amazing and a brilliant writer, so seriously check out her stories here on FanFiction. There's also **rainbowstrlght**, whose writings on LiveJournal pretty much motivated me into writing things like this. _Zenith _and _Azimuth_, among others? Fantastic stories that should be read by all. I'd also like to thank the amazing **xladyjagsvolleyball16x** for being my beta tester and editer. I love you guys so very much._

_Last thing: I admit minor BSing! I took the Welsh heritage bit off of Chris Pine's bio, not Kirk's. Continuity's sake, ya know?_

_Now, Happy Saint Patrick's Day! Go turn some Vulcans green!_


End file.
